Forsaken Solitude [OPEN]

[Rivre]

The day was young, dawn having only just Sept above the highcountry's mountainous horizon, braiding itself into the hillside along with the chatter of the lorikeets - the squabble of the gang gangs. The Crackenback was full to bursting, rushing past in a flurry of cold tides, licking at the banks and tugging at the snowgrass tussocks embedded in the side. Watlle flowers bloomed, and the cherry pink flower of the snowgums beginning to fight their way out of tight little buds. Spring was upon the bush country, and Mesbra knew only too well what came with it.

He stood square beneath one of the gnarled old snowgums, pale trucks thick with the sweat of sap and waxy leaves reaching down to caress his heated black hide - gazing out across the fast-flowing river and a sense of longing stirred dramatically in his heart. It was almost a month now since he had seen his brother of blood and wind , Mering, in the snows atop the Ramshead, but even still the worry nagged at him, the caution that would be required to continue that relationship. For it was time for him to gather a herd of his own, the five year old stallion who had no experience in the matter of gathering mares, rather more so in fighting; he relished in the company of others, but now his roam had come to end, as would Mering's one-day, and he would settle.

Ears flickering and eyes trained on nothing in particular, he let the tepid wind pull eagerly at his mane, tumbling like black water across pebbles and cooling the sweat of his neck. Drawing in a heavy breath, he let his nostrils curl to the scents of the bush, wet, moist and fresh the tainted stench of snowgrass and heather, sweet to an empty belly. Perhaps he could graze a while? But first he would rid himself of this caked mud and sweat. Walking serenely out into the little river-side clearing, he nosed the dew laden earth approvingly, before falling onto his knees and then his side. There he rolled for a good while, scratching the untenable itches and freeing his coat of dirt and scrub. Scrabbling for a foot-hold he hauled himself back onto his hooves, shaking out his now damp hide, and snatching a few mouthfuls of the short-stemmed grass as he rose.

The dawn had come and gone now, to be replaced by a blue and cloudless sky and Mesbra thanked his lucky stars that he had the option of cover under the snowgums. It was not good for a horse, especially one of his colouring to remain out in the sun for too long, for it did things to you. Stepping quietly, he neared the bank, neat-cut, hardened hooves slipping quick and fast into the wet mud, lowering his muzzle to the cool water and gulping deep breaths of the fresh liquid. It felt good to have something in his stomach, a fresh coat and a rested, not raw, throat. This was the life he wanted now, free of tension and free to live life to it's full, in a relaxed manner.

Pulling free of the sucking mud, he shot backwards and up the incline, head thrown up so as to help him gain his balance. Now all he needed was some company, and so he checked himself once again, head lowered to the ground where he would graze until someone stumbled across him.

[Tiggs]

It was a little later that day when a caramel-dun mare came trotting out of the bush, her flaxen and brown-mixed mane bouncing against her neck as she chased after a leggy brown colt. She caught him up, and cantered past. The colt would then increase his pace, while his mother slowed, and then they repeated the game. Before they were too far from the threes though, the mare turned her colt around and came to a halt. While she looked back to the trees, another shape stirred there and a spotted mare with a yearling filly emerged.

The group seemed not to have noticed the stallion grazing out a little further, but the honey-brown mare was poised, one foreleg held ready as if to move, and her head held high so her mane would lift in the occasional breeze. But then her colt, which looked strong and vital, pushed under her abdomen to suckle, and that appeared to ruin the mare’s poise. She tossed her head and bumped her nose on her son’s rump, before looking directly at the stallion.

Calca had seen the black stallion before she even left the trees. She might have a lot of her mother about her, but she wasn’t completely senseless. To begin with she had thought it might be her mate, Prisma. He had been wandering, but this was not him. There were no distinctive white spots, and his head was far too long. Nevertheless, Calca still had a mischievous streak and she could not help but tease the stallion.

Both she and her companion, Dilkera, were not regular brumbies. Dilkira was smothered in white and black spots, while Calca herself was a direct moonfilly descendant! What stallion could resist just lineage? Of course, she was devoted to her stallion, Prisma, but while the dingo was away, the wombats would play (not that Calca ever compared herself to a wombat). She nickered to the black stallion, flicking her tail flirtatiously. The foals at foot should suggest to this stallion that the two mares were spoken for, but Calca could hardly resist a bit of harmless fun, especially when it resulted in compliments.

[Rivre]

It seemed as if the bush had emptied the four nearing group of brumbies into his clearing, and Mesbra stood, head thrown up, the grass that licked half concealed at his lips, tickling whiskers so that he had to blow warm air through nostrils to relive it; how convenient of them. Nickering his reply, he knocked the look of surprise wonder from his features, arching his neck as he began to walk towards the mares and foals - pace imitating that of a flashy black stallion of the men, legs rising high to almost touch his chest, glossy hide shimmering with strength and vitality. As if he wouldn't seize the day! The first mare was a honey chocolate with cream and flaxen threads that fell about her lineaments, catching the beauty of the light and all spectacles - but it was her slightly teasing expression of the eyes which drew him closer; and the second was a curious stopped creature, and one he had never come across before.

The young ones didn't bother him all that much, in fact, it took him all the time to arrive there before he realized what their presence must mean. Oh well, it had been worth a shot. Keeping his proud stance, Mesbra looked on with noble brown and black gaze, again offering his greetings.
"It seems you're well met - the spring is good, or will be for your colt and filly at least. I am Mesbra of night and shadow, I mean you no harm and have no intention of even attempting to steal you away from your stallions, so perhaps you will tell me your names?" Dipping his head graciously, he dropped his head to gaze, gaze flickering up and he hesitated again before continuing, inviting them to join him if they pleased - after all, it wasn't his grass to claim.
"It seems I'm more than a little good at evading company" he chuckled with a dry humour.

[Ehetere]

Dilkera and her lesser spotted daughter Lentara trotted along in happy harmony. It would be hard to find two more amiable creatures in the whole of the High Country, with both mother and daughter quite happy to follow after the clear leader of the group: the grulla mare with the flaxen mane who went by the name of Calca.

Lentara was more than eager to go and explore the world when Calca led off one morning while her father, Prisma, was away. Dilkera had hesitated for a second, but quickly forgot her worries, for why should they not be allowed to explore when Prisma was away? Besides, what fun it would be!

Emerging from the trees, Dilkera saw the black stallion for the first time. She was a friendly beast, happy to talk the mane off any horse willing to put up with her for long enough, so company was not unwelcome. Calca seemed to be showing off – something that Dilkera did not understand for was she not Prisma’s mate? But where was Prisma? It was all rather confusing for those who might dwell on it, but Dilkera would never be one of these. Whatever Calca’s reasons, she would have to trust them.

The stallion noticed them and gazed in their direction before nickering a greeting and trotting over proudly with his neck arched. So the black was showing off too! Perhaps Calca might have a contest with him to see who could be the most showy. Calca had always struck her as a very competitive mare.

The stallion seemed polite, and Dilkera was eager to find another horse to talk to. Lentara looked upon the black with wide eyes before turning to Calca’s pale grullo colt and bumping him lightly with her nose in an invitation to come and play. She didn’t have much interest in the affairs of the older horses, and would much rather spend her time frolicking and exploring.

Walking forward excitedly, Dilkera quickly babbled her introduction to the black stallion, before pausing and holding her tongue. He had really been interested in Calca first – so maybe she should have waited for a real invitation to talk first.

[Tiggs]

Calca was only too aware of how fabulous she appeared, with her honey coat and pale mane, and she pranced and posed as the black stallion came over. Ah, there was no better feeling than to be adored. The mare seemed disappointed at his words though, “No intention of stealing us? Why? Are we not beautiful enough?” Calca chuffed, as if her own question was ludicrous. Of course she were beautiful. Regrettably, Dilkera was also an interesting mare, and Calca could not resist a little jealously toward the spotted mare. Of course Prisma would pick out the most distinctive mares in the High Country, and though Calca was quite happy in Dilkera’s company, her striking coat was a little envious.

Kolya, Calca’s dun colt, mumbled something and grudgingly went to play with his older sister. The young colt was not keen on the girly games he was forced to play, but at least it beat standing around preening. He followed after the white filly, to race or explore, whichever took her fancy. Kolya thought himself rather nice to play her silly games.

Dikera babbled something, and Calca tossed her head. “I am Calca, and this is Dilkera.” She clarified the spotted mare’s mumblings. She glanced after her son, but her trusted the colt to be sensible. At least his preoccupation allowed her and Dilkera to have a little more fun. She too dropped her head to graze, and casually nibbled at the grass near to him, so close that their muzzled brushed. “Well Mesbra,” she replied, “You’ll have to do better than this to evade us.”

[Rivre]

Black lobes flickered uncertainly, for his heart told him to stay and his hooves to leave - if these mares were indeed claimed, surely their stallion was close? And he did not want to fight today. Muscled body seemed to ripple with the sunlight captured on his hide, weaving between each single thread until he glowed, a black stallion, and attention was soon captured by the way light fell also to the two queer but beautiful mares.
"If I thought you not pretty, I would hold my tongue - but I believe that every brumby has some sort of beauty that captures the gaze, whether it be personality or appearance. Narcissism never fails to engage pity within me for that horse." His tones were full of a wisdom odd for his somewhat young age, but the flamboyance of the golden had caused him some degree of a complex - did she want to be stolen away?

The other was, in his eyes, more beautiful than the plainly but wonderfully defined Calca, her features were more subtle, but all the more intriguing - pleasing even, to behold. Gaze fell to hers, and he nodded, a sort chuckle escaping lips at her rushed entrance, "It seems the name is a lovely as the one who claims it," he nickered, for what harm could be done? If he attracted their stallion...? So what? He did not want to fight, no, but there was a time when going up against another was right and just - and then there was a time when it was purely fun. Flank twitched the brush away the hovering flies, as a cool breeze caressed the gathered horses, lifting sweated mane from neck a little, to let the air pass; it felt cool, and he shivered in delight at the touch of it, once again refocusing on the spotted Dilkara. "Tell me, why are two mares such as yourselves wandering alone through the bush?"

OOC: Sorry >.< Muse is like, 0 at the moment, and that SUCKED.